The Tijervyn Chronicles
Chapter Thirteen

story by
Richard Fife

art by
April Herron

Chapter Thirteen: “Picking up the Pieces”

Markus sifted through the gears, springs, and strange silver fibers that made up his left knee. He had taken both of his legs off, hoping to use the undamaged one as a guide, but he dared not root into either of them too deeply, lest he end up without functioning legs at all.

He thought he could see the basics of how the joint worked, but that only account for maybe a quarter of the parts, and none of the pieces he could easily identify and perhaps replace had been damaged by the bullet. No, what had taken the brunt of the bullet’s force was one of those strange bubbles with odd filaments running through it like a spider web. There were a few other gears and springs that were damaged, but even if he found replacements for them, he doubted it would do much good without a replacement for that bulb.

He took the loupe he had borrowed from Nikki off, sat it down next to the legs, and leaned back, rubbing his face. He had no clue what he was doing; he was a soldier, not a meister. And back in the war, the few times he’d seen someone damaged this badly, those bone-saw doctors usually just replaced the whole limb instead of trying to repair the damage. Only Quintin had ever taken the time to do repairs.

The door creaked, and he opened his eyes to see Vlad slipping in. He had a flask in the crook of one arm and was holding a pair of wooden cups.

“You look like you need a drink,” he said. “Luckily, I need someone to drink with. Perhaps we can solve each other’s problem?”

“Yeah,” Markus said. “A drink sounds good about now.”

Vlad smiled and sat down across the table. As he poured the clear liquor into the glasses, he glanced up. “Any luck?”

Markus shook his head. “This is so far beyond me it isn’t funny. Maybe a meister could figure it out, using the one leg as a model, but me . . . .”

“What will you do, then?” Vlad handed over one of the cups. “It isn’t exactly like we can march up to Tesma’s compound and ask them to fix it, eh?”

Markus took a sip of the liquor and grimaced. It was not his first time tasting Vladka, but he had still yet to acquire the taste for it that Gavrial seemed to have. “Maybe I’ll have to do exactly that. Either that or be a crippled revenant. Come on. Help me get these back on.”

Vlad took his drink in a single toss then stood and helped Markus pick up the pieces and put them back in. Several minutes later, the legs were warmed up, and Markus took a deep breath as he slid in the silver pin that would give his right leg feeling. Fortunately, there was no longer the blinding pain, but the knee felt decidedly weak.

He stood and tried to put weight on the leg. For moment, it held, but then he felt something inside grind and strain, and he had to catch himself on the table. He sighed and accepted the crutch Vlad held out, and they both went into the Aviary’s common room. Bryon, Gavrial, and Margot were sitting at a table, picking over their food, and Cook was in the kitchen area, moving about as if she had been cooking in the Aviary her entire life, although her scowl was somewhat deeper set than usual.

Markus sat down at the table. “Margot, I hadn’t heard you’d shown up.”

She glanced to him and smiled. “With Kira arrested, someone had to keep a woman’s touch in the gang. Unless you rather I left Cook to do it.”

Markus shook his head and glanced over to where Cook was stirring a pot of stew. Fortunately, she either did not hear Margot’s jape or just chose to ignore it.

“Kira wasn’t arrested,” Gavrial said. “Nikki sent one of her people out to check the constable stations and they don’t have her. Then again, I could have told you that; it’s the military that took her.”

“Then I guess she might as well be a lost cause,” Margot said. “If the military got her, they probably have her squirreled away someone to be used for experiments or something. Maybe Markus won’t be the only revenant in the city, soon.”

Gavrial’s shoulders tensed, but Markus shook his head before the large man could do anything. “They wouldn’t do that. If they were interested in cyborgs, they wouldn’t have kicked me out as fast they did.”

“Did they kick you out, Markus?” Gavrial said.

“For the last time, Gavrial, I’m not involved in what happened last night.”

“That wasn’t what I asked,” Gavrial said. “Perhaps they planned on playing around with you, and you didn’t want any part of it. Maybe they want you back, and they kidnapped Kira so they could offer a trade.”

Markus tilted his head to the side. “Where’d you get a harebrained idea like that?”

Vlad coughed uncomfortably. “I was only joking about that, Gavrial.”

Markus looked at Vlad. “You?”

“It was a joke,” Vlad said. “How was I to know he’d take it seriously?”

Markus rubbed his temple. “Thanks, Vlad.”

Vlad gave Markus a half-hearted smile then went over to the kitchen and fetched them both a bowl of stew. While he was up, Gavrial gestured to the crutch that was leaning against the table next to Markus.

“Can’t fix it?”

Markus shook his head. “No, but I still don’t think it’s that bad.” He paused and looked to the end of the table. “Bryon, who built that cat of yours? Bryon?

Bryon looked up from his soup. “What? Oh, Ada. A fellow named Charl Baggabe made her.”

“Where is he?” Markus said. “He might be able to fix up my leg.”

Bryon shook his head. “He’s from Gorlido”

“Damn.” Gorlido was on the other far side of Voxfeld. Markus turned back to Gavrial. “I guess my only choice is for you to take me to see Jasyn and Torbit.”

“Meisters?” Gavrial said. “After that shock-shield bastard has been hunting you down, you just want to hand yourself over?”

“Do you think they would turn me into the guild?” Markus said. “They already have dealings that would get them in trouble with Tesma, and they might be my only hope of fixing this leg, short of going to Adervyn.”

“They might not,” Gavrial said. “Then again, they just might. Jasyn is a good guy, but he’s still a meister and answers directly to Tesma and Qristina.”

“I don’t really have a choice,” Markus said. “I need to at least try.”

Gavrial looked him over and sighed. “Fine, finish up dinner. No reason to wait on it, then. Vlad, Margot, coming?”

“I’ve walked halfway around this city today,” Margot said. “I’ll stay right here, thank you.”

“I’ll come,” Vlad said.

Markus looked at him. “I thought you hated the guild.”

Vlad smiled weakly. “I do.”

* * *

Andrew walked into the small observation room and closed the door behind him. Joss was already seated and looking into the interrogation room, and he rubbed his mustache as he watched. Beyond the one-way glass, Wynfeld was screaming at Jak Joraz, demanding to know where Salteen might have run off to. Andrew chewed on his lip and sat next to Joss.

“How long has he been at it?”

Joss did not look away from the window. “Two hours.”

“Just today?”

“Just that I’ve seen.”

Andrew shook his head. “This isn’t right, Joss. He’s ignoring everything else for a band of minor thieves. Revenant or not . . . and then there was last night’s fire. Sunset House just sent messenger. They want to do a full inquiry into what happened, and why we weren’t at the factory break-in.”

“Well, that can’t be good.” Joss never took his eyes off Wynfeld, and his lips were curved into a faint smile. “What do you suppose is going to happen?”

“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen,” Andrew said. “You and I are going to be rotting in a jail somewhere.”

“Phaw,” Joss said. “We didn’t do anything but follow orders. How can they blame it on us?”

“I had a friend who was in a Garden District constabulary a year ago,” Andrew said. “There was a big break-in and a botched investigation, and all he had been doing was following orders. After Sunset House finished the inquiry, they ended up tossing him in the Burrows.”

“What?” Joss finally looked at Andrew. “Why’d they do a silly thing like that?”

“Because,” Andrew said. “An inquiry is just a bunch of paperwork that the chief has to fill out, and some interviews. He can spin it to be anyone’s fault he wants. Sunset House just wants to make the public think they’re doing something, not actually find out what happened.”

Joss’s face had gone pale. “You can’t be serious.”

“Wynfeld hates us, Joss. Do you think he’s going to let his righteous quest for this revenant end like this?” Andrew pulled off his glove, showing the burns he still had from that day in Tidor Manor. “And what about us? We’ve seen the revenant and that . . . whatever it was that had that shockrod. Haven’t we done enough? I joined the constables to stay out of harm’s way, not be thrown into the middle of a warzone!”

Joss and Andrew both looked back to interrogation room. Wynfeld had been beating Jak, and now he was hooking up that horrid machine. Joss shuddered.

“What can we do?”

Andrew pulled out a set of papers from a folio under his arm. “I’ve filled out the Inquiry and signed it. You sign it too; give it more weight than just coming from one junior patrolman.”

“Yeah, now it will come from two junior patrolmen.” Regardless, he took the papers, looked them over, then pulled out a pen. He held it just above the line for his signature and looked up. “Is this right?”

“It’s what is fair,” he said. “It’s justice.”

Joss took a deep breath, looked back down to the papers, then signed. Andrew let out a sigh and took them back. “I’ll run these to the castle. Make sure he doesn’t go wondering where I’ve gone, right?”

Joss nodded. “Right.”

* * *

The sun hung low on the horizon, and just down the street, Markus could see the heavy, metal-girded door to the Meister’s Guild closed against the coming night. Something seemed wrong, and he realized that, despite the relatively early hour, the streets were strangely empty.

“Where is everyone?” he said.

Gavrial grunted. “When the guild closes for the day, so do a few block in all directions. Nobody likes to be near this place when you can actually tell that it’s glowing.”

“Apparently not even guards,” Markus said. “I haven’t seen a single one walking along the wall.”

“That’s because there isn’t a walkway,” Vlad said. “Tesma guards his walls in other ways.”

Markus looked at Vlad in confusion, and the strange man went into obviously fake convulsions. Markus grimaced.

“His lightning?”

“Yeah,” Gavrial said. “Even the birds don’t try to land on his wall anymore. It won’t shock you to touch the bottom, but even get near one of those copper spikes up there, and boom, you’re as crispy as Cook’s bacon.”

Markus sighed. “I guess going over the wall is out of the question, then. So, how do you propose we get in?”

“The same way a slum dweller gets anywhere important in the slums,” Gavrial said. “The sewers.”

“You telling me that Tesma went to all the effort of ringing his compound with lightning, but he didn’t block the sewers off?”

“Oh, they tried,” Gavrial said. “But this is the slums we’re talking about. They built their own pretty sewer system and fed it off the river, sure. They blocked off all the sewers they could find that lead back into the city, yeah. They didn’t even come close to blocking all of the ways us slum dwellers had to get around.”

Markus looked at Gavrial for a long moment. “Really?”

“It’s true,” Vlad said. “It’s a shame your nose isn’t fake, though.”

“Why’s that?” Markus said.

“Because you’re going to wish you could turn if off like your leg.” Vlad gave him a smile then walked back down the alley they were standing in. He pushed aside some crates and revealed a manhole that was half hidden under refuse and grime.

Gavrial pulled out a pry-bar and lifted the manhole up then jumped in without a word. Vlad lit a lantern and passed it down into the darkness, then gestured for Markus to go on down. He slid down into the hole, trying as best he could to land on his good leg, and his feet landed in a small pool of something moist. From the smell, he was glad he could not see all that well, despite the light of the lamp Gavrial held.

Markus moved away from the hole, and Vlad jumped down, although he managed to catch onto the ladder Markus had not seen, thus missing the puddle of whatever it was. Vlad closed the manhole then jumped off the ladder. He lit another lamp off of Gavrial’s, and then the two men started down the tunnel.

They walked through the dark maze in silence. Before too long, Gavrial brought them to a stop in a dead end. The cut of the stone in front of them was markedly smoother and less lichen covered than the rest of the walls, and the seam where the walls joined was completely mortar.

Gavrial looked the newer wall over for a moment before he handed Vlad his lamp and worked free a small brick to one side. He reached into the hole, and a moment later there was a click, and the wall started to slide back and open. Just beyond, another wall was opening inward, and between the two slabs of stone, a series of gears, counterweights, and pulleys ground away.

Gavrial looked at the now unblocked tunnel. “Huh, it’s still here.”

“What do you mean by that?” Markus said.

“I haven’t had to use this tunnel since I was a boy, and I’m pretty sure a meister is who must have originally installed it begin with.” Gavrial shrugged. “Guess he must have not been around anymore when Tesma went about sealing off the tunnels. Either that or he thought it would be good to keep a secret way in and out for himself.”

Markus shook his head, and Vlad laughed beside him. “Just now starting to wonder about following Gavrial anywhere?”

Gavrial snarled at Vlad, and they continued on, although the larger man did stop to close the secret passage behind them. A few minutes and twists of the tunnels later, they were at a ladder.

Gavrial put a foot on the first rung. “If I have my bearings, this will lead up to an alley near Torbit’s lab.”

“And if you don’t, we will probably end up in Tesma’s bedroom,” Vlad said. “Why don’t you go check, eh?”

Gavrial grunted and climbed up the ladder. He slowly lifted the cover up with one hand and peered out, then laughed. “What do you know? I was right.”

“A blind rat finds cheese every once in a while,” Vlad said. “Well, go on, get up there so I can hand our invalid up to you.”

Markus wondered what he was doing with these people. One unsure of where he was leading them, and the other unable to take the fact that they were in the middle of the hostile territory seriously.

Once Gavrial was up, Markus slowly climbed up the ladder. Vlad did not really push him up, but once or twice his hurt knee almost gave out on him and the strange man’s hand was there to catch his back. Once he was up high enough, Gavrial reached down and grabbed him by a wrist and pulled him the rest of the way up.

While Vlad scampered up, Markus went to the end of the alley and looked around. The courtyard was deserted and cast in the long shadow of the central tower. Above them, several windows already showed the steady glow of Tesma’s strange light. Hopefully, anyone in those rooms would be too engrossed in whatever experiments they might be conducting to look out the window.

They left the manhole cover partially off and darted across the courtyard as quietly as they could. To Markus, every footfall sounded like a clap of thunder, but no alarm was raised, and no heads poked out of the windows to see what all the noise was about. A scant few moments, and they were through the small door and down the hallway. They turned into Torbit’s lab, and found it looking quite a bit different.

There was still a general clutter, but the majority of it had changed. The one device in the corner was still there, but everything else was shifted around or else replaced with equally confusing bits and pieces of projects, some mechanical and others that obviously used Tesma’s lightning. What the lab was missing though, was Torbit.

“No one’s home,” Vlad said. “Are you sure about him always working late? Maybe he went out to get a beer.”

“He lives in the complex,” Gavrial said. “He wouldn’t be outside after the doors were closed for the night, not unless he planned on staying in an inn for the evening.”

“And if he did?” Markus said. “Or perhaps decided to stay at a brothel?”

Gavrial laughed. “You met him. Tell me, does Torbit take you as one to go whoring? And I’ve tried to get him out drinking. No, he’s here, somewhere.”

“Perhaps he’s with Jasyn,” Markus said.

“Then it’ll be the millhouse.” Gavrial frowned. “That isn’t going to make this any easier.”

“What do you mean,” Markus said. “This building is right against the Millhouse. It must be what, a half-minute walk, if that?”

“If only,” Gavrial said. “The Millhouse is only accessible from the middle of the complex. One way in, one way out. We’ll have to come back another day, Markus. Going there is suicide.”

“I can’t help Kira until I get this leg fixed, Gavrial,” Markus said. “The longer we put it off, the longer she is wherever it is that she is.”

Gavrial narrowed his eyes and spat. “Fine, but stay close and keep your eyes and ears sharp. I don’t exactly know where I’m going.”

“I hadn’t really thought you did anyway,” Markus said. “Lead on.”

* * *

“Yes, that would be wise,” Jaeger said. “While fortune always favors the bold, it also favors the prepared.”

“And it would be best to be both.” Maaike finished the quote and smiled. “I have always found that one a bit trite, to be honest.”

“And yet it is well used here, don’t you think?” Jaeger took a sip of tea and smiled. He had to admit, despite himself, he was coming to enjoy Maaike’s company. True, he did not trust her a hair’s breadth, but it was refreshing to talk familiarly to someone with Voxfeldian training.

A light knock came from the door to the hallway, and Jaeger looked over to it. “Expecting someone?”

“No,” She walked over to the door and cracked it open. “Yes?”

There was a mumble, and she opened the door wider. A guard stood there, his face somewhat flushed. No doubt, he thought he had interrupted the Sunset Count in the middle of pleasure. He stepped into the room, and a moment later, another man followed him: Wynfeld Black.

“Explain yourself,” Jaeger said.

Wynfeld stammered. “I, sir—”

“Not you,” Jaeger said. “I’ll get to you in a moment. You, guardsman. How did you find me?”

The guard blushed even more. “Sir, the Lady Becka said I might find you here. Constable Black said you had sent for him rather urgently.”

“I had told him first thing in the morning,” Jaeger said. “And if you had the sense to have checked the summons, you would have seen that yourself.”

The guard clinched his fists, as though bracing for a blow. “I’m sorry, milord.”

“What is your name, guardsman?”

“Petre, milord. Petre Lason.” He swallowed hard. “I’ll show the constable out, milord.”

“No, wait here.” Jaeger turned to Maaike. “This won’t take but a moment, if I might make use of your smaller sitting room?”

Maaike bowed her head ever so slightly and gestured to a door on the far side of the room. “But of course, milord.”

Jaeger scowled at the guard again. With any luck, the guardsman would cement the rumor that Maaike and Jaeger were in a dalliance and nothing more. He then gestured sharply to Black and stormed off into the sitting room. That much, at least, he did not need to fake. The constable had him cross enough to chew rivets and spit nails.

When Black closed the door behind them, Jaeger wheeled around but kept his voice low.

“Now, quietly, explain yourself, constable.”

“I have only been doing as you ordered, milord,” Wynfeld said. “I’ve been hunting the revenant.”

“A solid block of the slums burned last night, Wynfeld. A solid block while you went haring off on a lead after ignoring a direct order to support the investigation at that factory.”

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read in reports, milord,” Wynfeld said. “I know those two fools, Snette and Drayden, sent you a horrible lie of an accounting of what happened last night, and—”

“Not just Snette and Drayden, Wynfeld. I also have it from other precinct chiefs who have gathered the truth of it from their patrolmen that you commandeered for this stunt.”

Wynfeld held out a folio. “Sir, if you will just read my report—”

Jaeger cut him off with a gesture. “I already know what it will say, Black, and I cannot believe you would think me so daft as to let you pin the blame for all of this on those two boys.”

“Milord—”

“Be quiet!” Jaeger took a deep breath and smoothed the front of his coat. “Black, I had selected you for this task because you had been among my best. You were thorough and meticulous, and furthermore, you could be discrete. So tell me, how is that I was so wrong?”

To his credit, Black did not attempt to say anything in his defense.

“A city block, up in flames. Hundreds dead. I tasked you to protect our city from this threat, not become a worse one yourself.” Jaeger took another deep breath. “Constable Black, you are relieved from duty and stripped of your position. Constable Viggler will take your place in the interim until such time as I can appoint a more fitting chief. Do you have anything to say?”

“I had found him, milord,” Wynfeld said. “Salteen’s Hole!”

“Did you capture him?” Jaeger said. “Or any of Salteen’s men?”

“I have one of them in custody, sir,” Wynfeld said. “I have been interrogating him, trying to find out where they would run to.”

“A man you captured some time ago,” Jaeger said. “And that you have been torturing using unauthorized methods. What are we, man? Barbarians? No better than those butchers in Adervyn? Shall I issue out thumbscrews to all of my constables so they can coerce confessions from even the most innocent?”

“But—”

“I don’t want to hear anymore, Black,” Jaeger said. “You shall have your severance, and your record will be sealed. That is the least I can do in respect of your long and otherwise distinguished service. Although, do not except to be a constable in this city again. I suggest you find someplace new to pick up your life, somewhere far away.”

Black looked at Jaeger, eyes wide and mouth agape. “I . . . I understand, milord.”

“And one more thing, Black,” Jaeger said. “Your record will be sealed, but that is not simply for your benefit. I expect you to remain circumspect about your part in this business. That is all.”

Wynfeld bowed slightly and half brought his fist up in salute before he caught himself. He was no longer a constable; he was a normal citizen. Normal citizens did not salute the Sunset Count. He turned on his heel, trying to keep some level of dignity, and let himself out.

Jaeger followed a moment later. Maaike sat in an armchair across the room, and Petre was still standing at near attention by the door. Jaeger gave the guard a glance, and Petre ever so slightly shook his head. No, Maaike had not tried to eavesdrop. Had Petre not been left there, she likely would have.

“See Mr. Black out,” Jaeger said. “All the way to the main gate.”

Petre saluted and led Black out. What a mess, and Jaeger was still no closer to cornering the revenant and his mistress with him. Oh well, it would only be a matter of time. He would just have to go about it with a different approach.

He gave Maaike a warm smile. “Where were we?”

* * *

Markus looked around the center of the meister’s tower in awe. Apparently, only the outer few hallways were stone and mortar. Once they passed that, the entire thing became metal. Grating served as the floor and ceiling, and smooth steel plates made up the walls with the occasional metal door or stairwell.

“It’s like Adervyn,” Markus said.

“What was that?” Gavrial said.

“Um, nothing,” Markus said. “I was just thinking this place looks so, so . . . .”

“Hellish,” Gavrial said. “Yeah. This must be what the abyss looks like, mark my words.”

“I don’t think you’re far off,” Markus said. “Wait, did you hear something?”

All three of them froze, tense and listening. A bead of sweat rolled down Markus’s face, and he adjusted his stance to take some weight off his bad leg. Something seemed to pull in his knee, and he winced and looked down. Whatever it was, it travelled down his leg but stopped just near the cuff.

“It’s nothing,” Gavrial said. “Come on. I think we’re almost there.”

Markus nodded and took a step, and then he felt that tingle finish sliding down, and a soft, metal clink echoed in the hallway. They all froze again, and Markus stared down. Another sound of metal hitting metal came from the floor below, and Markus swore under his breath.

“What was that?” Vlad said.

“A gear from my knee,” Markus said. “It must have worked loose. We have to go get it.”

“Can you still walk?” Gavrial said.

Markus looked to the other man. “What?”

“That gear, do you need it to keep walking?”

“No,” Markus said. “If it came lose, it couldn’t have actually been driving anything. But—”

“I’m sure Torbit and Jasyn can replace it. We don’t have time to go haring off after every little piece you drop.”

“It isn’t like we’ve even seen anyone,” Markus said. “Almost like they’re all locked up in their rooms and don’t dare come out.”

“Luck,” Gavrial said. “Luck I don’t want to push. They do have some sort of security force that does rounds, and I don’t like the fact that I have no clue where it is.”

“That is rather strange,” Vlad said. “Markus is right, we haven’t seen anyone since we’ve been in here.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” Gavrial said. “Come on!”

Markus moved reluctantly, and for all he could tell, his leg was not any weaker for the missing gear. It surely had been one of the damaged parts. He only hoped that the meisters would have something that could replace it.

They turned down several more hallways, went up a flight of stairs, and backtracked twice before they found a corridor that seemed to go on further than the metal interior of the tower would have allowed. Markus took a moment to remember his bearings, and if he was not completely turned around, the hall led out over the river. Or, more correctly, to the millhouse.

They walked down the hallway, and soon the regularly spaced doors on the sides stopped, and the floor and ceiling became solid metal, although a pattern of ridges covered the floor. Several yards later, the grated walkway resumed, but the walls and ceiling disappeared.

To their side, the massive waterwheels of the millhouse rose up at least fifteen feet above them, and Markus could see the river quite some ways below, through the walkway. His head started to spin, and he pulled his eyes up, focusing on the stationary platforms ahead of them.

They walked along the catwalk and came to the first platform. A middle-ranked meister stood at an instrument panel, where she occasionally jotted numbers down on a notepad held in the crook of her arm. Markus looked to Gavrial, who shrugged, took a step forward, and cleared his throat. The woman looked around, and then nearly jumped back at the sight of them.

“Who—Who are you?”

“Friends of Jasyn Hares and Torbit Cennet,” Gavrial said. “We need to see either of them, Jasyn preferably.”

“A friend, eh?” She reached around behind her. “And tell me, if you’re his friend, what is Jasyn’s favorite wine?”

“That he is overworked and underpaid,” Vlad said.

The woman looked at him, and Gavrial laughed.

“About right. He hates wine, although he can grouse with the best of them, and that is probably the one I’ve heard the most.”

The woman relaxed. “You do know him.”

“Of course we do,” Gavrial said. “Now where is he?”

She frowned, looked at the panel, and turned back to them. “Follow me.”

She led them to the far side of the millhouse, where a small building with thankfully enclosed rooms and halls was worked into the wall. They went down a few floors and she knocked on a door. “Master Hares? Some men here to see you.”

“Who is it?” the voice inside said.

“Me, you cantankerous louse,” Gavrial said.

The door opened and Jasyn poked his head out. He looked at the three visitors in shock for a moment, then turned to the woman. “Clare, be a good lass, and forget you saw these gentlemen, at least if Qristina or one of her toadies asks, alright?”

Clare nodded, but did not move. Jasyn growled and made a shooing gesture, and although she gave him a worried look, she finally left. Jasyn watched her go then waved his guests in.

“Here I was starting to wonder if I’d ever see you again,” he said. “And now, here you are, exactly when I’d least expect it.”

“We need some help,” Gavrial said.

“Blunt,” Jasyn said. “But I’d expect as much from you. It is never just social with you, is it, Thrust?”

“I need help,” Markus said. “Hopefully the discrete kind.”

“And I can only wonder what kind of help that might be.” Jasyn closed the door behind them then walked over to a pot and poured himself some tea. “You know, Qristina is interested in you for some reason, Markus. She grilled poor Torbit for an hour, asking questions about you. Well, you, Gavrial, and Kira, but I am pretty sure she’d seen the other two before. Speaking of her, where is the pretty lady?”

“Are you going to help us?” Gavrial said.

Jasyn looked up from mixing sugar into his tea. “Depends if I can. What kind of help are we talking about?”

“A repair,” Markus said. “To a very delicate piece of machinery. I’d wager some of the finest you’ll have had a chance to work on. The catch is: it doesn’t leave this room.”

Jasyn stared at Markus. “Is that a fact?”

“Listen,” Markus said. “If you don’t want—”

“You’re the revenant everyone is talking about,” Jasyn said. “I had a feeling you might be.”

“Now, I never said anything about those monsters,” Markus said.

“Calm down.” Jasyn waved his hand and took a sip of his tea. “Fine, I get to study you, which I’m going to have to anyway if you hope for me to fix whatever is broken, and in return I’ll fix you and keep it to myself. Deal?”

Markus looked to Gavrial and Vlad. The larger man nodded, but the shorter only shrugged. He turned back to Jasyn. “Deal.”

“Well then, let me see what’s what, then.”

Markus took his boot off and folded his pants leg up over his knee. Jasyn gestured for him to sit up on a nearby workbench then put on a loupe and started looking around inside the knee.

“What happened?”

“I was shot.”

“Do you have even the beginning of an idea on how to fix it?”

“Not really.”

Jasyn muttered something else and kept looking around in the knee. He reached in with a pair of tweezers. Markus flinched, and Jasyn pulled back and looked at him.

“You felt that?”

“Yeah,” Markus said.

Jasyn leaned back and pulled off his loupe. “I’d heard . . . but I only thought those were rumors.”

“Not all revenants can feel all that well,” Markus said. “I happen to be a shining specimen, though, although one with a shot-out knee. Can you fix it?”

Jasyn looked back at the knee for a moment and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “If I get Torbit in on this—I assume I can—and have a few weeks of you here, probably. I can look at the good knee as a reference at least.”

“We don’t have a few weeks,” Gavrial said.

“Well, that’s what it’s going to take,” Jasyn said. “I don’t know anything about the Secret of Silver. I barely know anything about the Secret of Copper, honestly. If I had some notes on the matter, perhaps I could work faster.”

“And where are we supposed to find notes?” Vlad said. “I doubt the library has a volume of the ‘Adervynian Devils Encyclopedia’.”

“Well,” Jasyn said. “As it happens, there is a set of notes in the city.”

“Where?” Markus said.

“Well, they were supposed to be in Tesma’s offices right now.” Jasyn smiled and winked. “Except, it seems that someone tipped off the rebels and old Lector about them, and they went and hired some crack-brained thieving band to blow up half of Docktown just to steal them.”

“Those were notes on cyborgs?” Markus put his face in his hands. “Just great. How are we supposed to get them from the rebels?”

“There might be a way,” Jasyn said. “Come on, I have a boat we can take up stream a bit. I’m sure that’ll beat however it was you got in here. I think I have an idea, but we should probably include Bryon.”

“I don’t know how much of a help he’ll be,” Gavrial said.

“Yeah,” Vlad said. “He has not been the same since the attack.”

“Attack?” Jasyn looked around. “Wait, fill me in on the way. For now, let’s get down to the boat and out of here. My luck, if we don’t, Qristina will decide to come and harass me for no good reason. And, I think, that is the last thing we want.”